


How To Annoy a Commodore in Five Easy Steps

by Kantayra



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-11
Updated: 2006-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack fucks with Norrington's head, just for the sake of annoying him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Annoy a Commodore in Five Easy Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Request drabble for supes_. The request was Jack/Norrington, no established relationship, Norrington getting annoyed, and hopefully inappropriate touching (although I couldn't get in the inappropriate touching, alas; I had to settle for inappropriate insinuation).

Step 1:

Five-hundred feet off the starboard bow, the Adept floated adrift off the coast of Two Mile Rock, its sails reeled in as it bobbed lifelessly on the waves. From the bow of the Dauntless, Commodore Norrington frowned at the sight. None of the crew was visible and, given the rather illustrious reputation as a transport of fine cargos, he was left with little choice but to assume the worst.

They’d first spotted the brig earlier that afternoon, and an alarm had come down instantly from the crow’s nest: the usual British flag had been replaced by a white flag of surrender. They’d changed course immediately, whispers spreading through the crew as to what could possibly happen to such a respectable vessel this close to Port Royal.

There was, of course, only one person who would dare.

Norrington’s jaw ticked just at the mere thought.

Step one complete.

Step 2:

Norrington frowned. As he looked at the white surrender flag blowing softly in the breeze, he was almost certain he saw a hint of black upon it. Behind him, men of his crew crossed the gangplanks set up between the Adept and the Dauntless. The decks were still eerily empty but, as the talk among his men grew louder, a shout could be heard from the seemingly abandoned ship.

Norrington’s attention turned abruptly from the surrender flag overhead to where Mullroy was shouting something from the helm of the Adept.

Curiosity turned to concern when the announcement came back to him that it was Captain Abberley, tied to the wheel and ranting like a madman.

Convinced the Dauntless itself was secured in the hands of Gillette, Norrington crossed over to the Adept just as Mullroy finally succeeded in cutting Captain Abberley free. The shorter man sprung to his feet in a rage, and that was when Norrington noticed something very odd, indeed.

“My trousers!” Abberley raged. “He stole my trousers!” And then, almost as an afterthought: “And my hat!”

Norrington took a deep, steadying breath, and his jaw ticked a second time. “Who?”

“That pirate Jack Sparrow!”

Step two complete.

Step 3:

“Find the crew,” Norrington demanded of his men. “Search everywhere.”

They scattered in response, while three of his men escorted a now deflated Captain Abberley to the deck of the Dauntless where, undoubtedly, he would be able to acquire substitute clothing.

“Commodore, sir!” Pearcey ran up to him and saluted.

“Report?” Norrington asked, almost dreading the response.

“All clear, sir. But we couldn’t get into the galley, sir.”

“Couldn’t get in?”

“Something’s blocking the door, sir.” Pearcey saluted again just for good measure.

Fighting the urge to curse under his breath, Norrington gestured for Pearcey to lead the way. They ended up below deck in a narrow corridor where about half a dozen of his men had gathered.

“It won’t budge, sir,” Lawry informed him.

“Have you tried breaking it down?”

It appeared no one else had thought of the idea. Norrington felt his patience melting as preparations were hastily made to break the door in.

The door held firm on the first pound.

On the second, it rattled.

The third, still more, and on the fourth they broke through…

Only to have the vats of brine rigged atop the door frame to fall downwards in a loud swoosh, coating his men in foul-smelling goop. Norrington himself just stepped back in time to avoid being hit by the deluge. It got on his shoes, though.

He looked down at them, took a deep breath, practically growled, and his jaw ticked once more.

Step three complete.

Step Four:

The crew of the Adept were all in the galley, although had been disrobed in a manner similar to Captain Abberley. Embarrassed, but for the most part unharmed, they were untied one-by-one and attended to by the Dauntless crew.

Norrington had been led away from the site of the rank-smelling debacle by Thurlby, who had been the one to first investigate the cargo hold. Norrington was filled with dread just _thinking_ about whatever sight lay in store for him.

In the end, it was almost a let-down. “This is it?” he demanded testily. It was not turning out to be a good day.

The hull was, of course, empty. With one noticeable exception.

The center of the very glaringly empty space where the Adept’s precious cargo had once been, sat a simple wooden chest.

“The men are afraid to open it, sir,” Thurlby informed him. “After what happened in the galley—”

“You mean a harmless prank?” Norrington almost snapped. That damnable pirate was the only person he’d ever met who could make him lose his cool like this, and he didn’t like it in the slightest. “Is the British Navy now afraid of mundane practical jokes?”

“U-Uh, sir! No, sir!” Thurlby saluted, looking both nervous and ashamed.

Norrington sighed. There was a very good saying that a good commanding officer should never order one of his men to do something that he, himself, would not to. It seemed, lamentably, that now was the time he got to put the saying into good practice.

He purposely strode over to the trunk and, with no hesitation, popped open the lid.

 _SPROING!_

He blinked in disbelief and coughed for a moment where the dust had flown up from the spring-loaded crossbow that had been set up as a booby-trap within the chest. And, then, he looked up to see where the arrow had lodged his hat firmly in the ceiling high above.

There was a note in the chest.

 _Knew you couldn’t resist popping the lid yourself, mate. ~J_

Angrily, he ripped the paper in two, fought back a growl, took a steadying breath, and his jaw ticked.

Step four complete.

Step 5:

“Sir! Sir!” Mullroy was back on the Adept’s deck, it seemed, and was waving to him frantically. What he seemed to be waving was the white surrender flag that Norrington had observed earlier. “Sir!” Mullroy came to a sudden, gangly stop before him and saluted, all while panting for breath. Then, he frowned. “What happened to your hat, sir?”

Norrington’s jaw ticked again in memory. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

“Er, right.” Mullroy seemed put off, but got back on track soon enough. “The cheek of the bas—er, fellow!” he exclaimed, waving the balled up flag in front of Norrington’s face. “Why, it’s unnatural, is what it is. Naught but a filthy pirate would even suggest—”

“What,” Norrington cut him off impatiently, “is it?”

Sheepishly, Mullroy offered him the flag, looking downright guilty as he did so.

Slowly, carefully, Norrington unfurled it, until he could see that the strange black marks he’d thought he’d seen earlier were, in fact, letters of black ink written on the flag. A deep, calming breath, and he began to read:

 _My dearest James,_

 _I know you miss me greatly, love. All those lonely nights in bed spent thinking of me. A shame, really, that Ms. Swann – my apologies, Mrs. Turner – isn’t there to help you out in my stead. And, if she is, good on you, mate, and I might even have to drop by some time to get in on the fun. Until then, you’ll just have to yearn for my embrace, as I do for yours. Tragic, really, how fate keeps us apart. Like two star-crossed lovers and some other rot I really wouldn’t be babbling about right now if I weren’t drunk off my gourd on all that fine sherry I found in the captain’s quarters. All right fellow, that one. No need to be jealous of him; I only took his trousers out of sport, and not because you’ve lost my undying love in the slightest._

 _Until we meet again, my love,_

 _Captain Jack Sparrow, yours and forever_

Norrington blinked at the signature for a moment, feeling deceptively calm about the whole thing. His breathing was perfectly regular, and his tested his jaw muscles several times to ease the tension…

“Like I said, sir,” Mullroy offered carefully. “It’s all rot. Complete and utter—”

The calm sea air was ripped asunder by the loud and most profane series of curses any seaman had ever heard. Somewhere, all the way on the mainland, surely some lady heard them due to the sheer volume and magnitude and fainted dead away.

Mission accomplished.


End file.
